


clair de lune

by zenexit



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Animalistic, Awkward Romance, Begging, Canon Compliant, Hair-pulling, Incomplete Transformation, Laughter During Sex, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mutual Pining, One Shot, Oral Knotting, Oral Sex, References to Knotting, Scratching, john isnt quite a werewolf... hes been attacked by one essentially, mild choking, more bill weasley than jacob black, pwp that turned into plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-25 02:41:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22008625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zenexit/pseuds/zenexit
Summary: Arthur grabbed John by the face on either side, locking blue eyes with the wild brown ones staring back at him. Brown was a generous color to call them at the moment. John Marston’s eyes were the darkest pits of black Arthur had ever seen. They were blown large and dark and wild, spit beginning to pool at the corners of his mouth.“You wanna tell me why you’re acting like a wild beast?” Arthur spat out. He held his composure, years of being the intimidator dripping from him. He was the bad cop, the one whose malice and hatred had to drip from his every move to make it clear he wasn’t fucking around.Black eyes didn’t even seem to respond to Arthur, not moving from his face with a hunger he couldn’t understand. Not knowing what he wanted from Morgan, but unwilling to try to find the strength in his still recovering body to overpower Arthur again.
Relationships: John Marston/Arthur Morgan
Comments: 8
Kudos: 90





	clair de lune

**Author's Note:**

> r* really put a werewolf into the game and had john attacked by wolves in the beginning huh.....  
> the length of this ran away from me,,,,, it was supposed to be a short pwp lmao
> 
> title is from the clair de lune poem by paul verlaine because i just rewatched twilight and remembered it existed  
> and a big thank you to my editor who was convinced i make the same errors on purpose in the same sentence LOL

When Marston came off that mountain, it really didn’t seem like anything was all that different. He was dragged back to camp, whining less than Arthur would like, but more than he knew was good. The idiot survived the ride back, as idiots always seem to manage to. It wasn’t until Horseshoe Outlook, when the Van der Linde gang had been there for a few days, that Arthur began to notice strange things.

John Marston might not always seem like it, but Arthur knew when it came to real wounds he was less of a complainer than if it was a small one. He would belly ache and bitch to everyone over a splinter in his eye, but pull away like a dying dog over a beam in the same place. There was little to do with it, as far as Arthur was concerned, but watch John.

  
  


On such a night where the moon was kissing the sky as gently as she could, just a sliver of light burning from her, that was the first night Arthur watched John wander out of camp. He was in that ratted looking red shirt, buttoned down far too deep to be decent, and black work pants. John was stumbling as if drunk, and Arthur was almost willing to believe that’s what it was. He got all the way to the first tree outside of camp, Arthur silently following behind him just out of sight, before the freshly scarred man took to kneeling at the tree, and then promptly blacked out from the effort.

It probably should have been more concerning, but when Hosea and Arthur dragged him out to a doctor he got the okay once more. A face marred by wild animals out on the mountain, but nothing they couldn’t see for themselves.

  
  


The following night, the moon was a black hole in the sky. Giving no light, it was a cloudless night. Arthur watched John in spite of himself, a worry he wasn’t used to crawling up the back of his neck. He didn’t want to be suspicious, so he spent the night moving around him silently. Nothing happened, out of the ordinary at least, but Arthur felt on edge nonetheless. 

Arthur rarely had watch nights these days. The silent honor system of throwing new recruits to the gang to watch the doors into camp had been too kind on Arthur’s nights. Allowing him to ride around like Dutch liked. But with Marston acting up like he had… Arthur volunteered, giving Lenny the night off. Again the same thing happened now that there was a lick of moonlight back in the sky, John wandered out past Arthur into the wild growths of the night. The way he stumbled past Arthur, dark eyes crazed but unseeing… It sent chills down Arthur’s spine. Part of him wanted to just stay where he was, gun in hand while watching the horizon, letting himself believe for a minute Marston had a fight with Abigail and was just going out for a cigarette but he had never seen that look in his old friends eyes. Not since the night Dutch and Hosea had saved him as a boy from being hung. 

John got farther than the tree this time, but he started crawling as he did it. When Arthur dropped to the ground to grab him by the shoulders to figure out what was wrong with him, John pushed him backwards. It shocked Arthur enough to be knocked on his ass. Marston continued then, breath catching loudly as it went in and out of his chest. His breathing could barely be called that, sending shivers up and down the back of John. Labored ragged breathing ripped out of him, and Arthur could hear the pain in every loud inhale.

“Marston!” Arthur finally managed to snap out. He slid across the dirt, caking his pants.

Arthur grabbed John by the face on either side, locking blue eyes with the wild brown ones staring back at him. Brown was a generous color to call them at the moment. John Marston’s eyes were the darkest pits of black Arthur had ever seen. They were blown large and dark and wild, spit beginning to pool at the corners of his mouth.

“You wanna tell me why you’re acting like a wild beast?” Arthur spat out. He held his composure, years of being the intimidator dripping from him. He was the bad cop, the one whose malice and hatred had to drip from his every move to make it clear he wasn’t fucking around.

Black eyes didn’t even seem to respond to Arthur, not moving from his face with a hunger he couldn’t understand. Not knowing what he wanted from Morgan, but unwilling to try to find the strength in his still recovering body to overpower Arthur again.

In the end, Arthur hog tied him and dragged him back to camp. Hosea and Arthur brought John to the doctor for the second time (this time in the middle of the night, much to the doctor’s disdain), to hear the same thing. 

Nothing was wrong with John Marston.

  
  


Morning broke the next day, as it always does and always will. Arthur shuffled to the food station to pour two black cups of coffee and trudged over to John’s sleeping roll. He kicked him before squatting down to offer the coffee to the angrily writhing John. He had never been much of a morning person, and his adventure through the woods couldn’t have helped. 

“You doing alright there, sleeping beauty?” Arthur asked dryly. 

John grunted in response, reaching upwards for the offered drink. He sipped it silently for a minute, and Arthur let the silence between them stay comfortable. He didn’t need to rush it when John was acting like a civilized person and not whatever the hell that was last night. Arthur didn’t want to think about how over three nights he had somehow gotten worse.

“You remember anything about last night?” Arthur asked finally. 

Raising the cup to his lips, John raised his eyebrows in response. The phrasing wasn’t the best, but Arthur held a serious gaze with him.

“I remember laying down to go to sleep, and now you waking me up at the ass crack of dawn for some reason.” John said tiredly. He turned dark brown eyes to give Arthur a tired look. “I need my sleep, Arthur. I’m still recovering.”

Looking down, Arthur took John in quickly. He was sitting a little funny maybe. Looked like his pants were torn from whatever nonsense that was.

“So, nothing about the doctor this time? Or your little stunt in the woods?” Arthur asked. His eyebrows were slowly knitting together. Last time when John hadn’t remembered it was funny, this time it didn’t quite hit in the same way.

There was something in John’s eyes that caught Arthur’s attention then. A sudden warriness, as if he almost knew what was going on. Or at least, it was catching up to him. It wasn’t like Arthur knew what that meant, so he just put it in the back of his mind. Best not to unpack that now.

“This makes what, twice now?” Arthur asked, quieter this time.

“Yeah.” John said dryly, eyes focused on something behind Arthur. 

“Hm.” Arthur said quietly in response. He sat down next to John after that, their sides brushing while they both stared off towards the horizon. The sun rising slowly while the two watched without a word, just quietly sipping their coffee.

  
  


Never one for the fantastical, it took longer than it should have for Arthur to figure out what was wrong with John. When he started to suspect it, he found himself to be nothing but a fool. He couldn’t stop himself from drawing more wolves that he saw out in the wilderness, their large paws and dripping muzzles weighting on his mind. It had been a little over two weeks since the new moon that seemed to christen John’s funny behavior. Overall in the day he wasn’t acting much different, maybe even better if Arthur was being honest. He was working hard in camp, his injuries seemingly completely healed. He was sharpening axes and carrying hay bales without issue. He had even been out hunting a few times, bringing some much needed meat back to camp.

When the sun began to set though, John’s whole body language would change. He got tense, hair seemingly on edge. He went from helpful well mannered John, something strange in itself if Arthur was being honest, to so tense Arthur was shocked he hadn’t pulled a knife on someone yet. Once the sun was completely set, a new silent agreement had been arranged between the two. They wandered into the woods. Sometimes together, sometimes apart. John would let Arthur tie him to the tree. They’d spend the night there. It was just like making camp on their own, but a lot less fun. 

John would ask Arthur about the stars, or something else just as silly. Arthur would laugh, but tries his best to answer. During the days, Arthur had even managed to find a book on stars (who would go through the trouble to write a thing like that anyway). 

Arthur knows it’s strange, that he shouldn’t feel so close to John when they were sitting out away from camp just the two of them. John, chained to a tree so he wouldn’t try to bite anyone.  Quietly reading a book to John, as best as he could by the light of their little fire . It seemed to soothe him, listening to his voice though. 

As the past two weeks had gone, it seemed like John would reach a point in the night where he would start whining. Arthur didn’t quite know what to make of that. But John sounded like Copper used to back when he would sit at the table, begging for a particularly fatty piece of steak. Truly heartbroken he didn’t have it.

Maybe Arthur shouldn’t be comparing John so much to an animal, but he was having a rough time of it. Lately he’d been wanting to check the long haired man for fleas.

This night so far wasn’t much different, but the whining seemed particularly needy. John almost sounded like he was whimpering while he fought at the rope of the tree. Arthur knew he wouldn’t get out, but he lowered his book anyway to make eye contact with John. Which, admittedly, was a bad idea.

The look John gave him then cut to the bone. Eyes black as night, looking like he was starving. There was a heat to them, and Arthur was sure there could be a whole circus behind him and John wouldn’t break his gaze. 

“You need somethin’ boy?” Arthur asked playfully, genuinely not expecting an answer. 

“Arthur,” John mumbled in response. His breath was low and raspy, coming from somewhere deep in his chest. Without meaning to, Arthur swallowed the extra spit rushing up in his mouth. He raised his eyebrows in response. This was the first time John had talked back to him during all his nights like this.

“Come ov’r here…” John said, in that same wanting voice. The kind of voice Arthur could hear every cigarette in, every drop of whiskey, every sunset the world had ever turned through, and every night he had managed to talk someone into sharing with him.

“Why would I do that? Make it easier for you to bite me?” Arthur asked dryly. In spite of himself he folded his book in his lap.

John didn’t reply then, eyebrows pulling together sadly. He started whining loudly again. A dog begging for a treat it wanted. 

Not thinking about it, Arthur sighed and got up. There had been a few nights he had sat next to John, wondering what he would do. He did try a few times to bite, or fight his bonds twice as hard to get at Arthur. He had also fallen asleep almost instantly when Arthur came over the last time. He couldn’t tell what Marston wanted from him, but what else was new.

Arthur moved to sit next to John, and was sure if he had a tail he would hear it wagging right now. His whines turning from heart broken into excited. John wiggled against his ropes, trying to crane his neck and face out to meet Arthur’s. Morgan sat stock still, letting John do what he could while they were so close. He wasn’t looking to get his throat ripped out but… his skin was starting to feel like it was on fire. It was embarrassing to admit, but Arthur listening to John… Like this… It was almost exciting.

Soft whines only being a gentle noise in the back of his throat, John excitedly nuzzled his face into the side of Arthur’s and his neck as best he could. There was a large dopey grin on his face, completely disconnected from anything happening. He was even beginning to do a few excited kisses along Arthur’s neck, who was doing his best to remain composed.

Arthur sighed, ready to force himself to get up, despite how happy John seemed to be. He looked at his own hands, and then downwards, towards the riding boots both he and John wore. Spit catching in his throat, Arthur had a hard time swallowing suddenly.

While still whining as he necked at Arthur, John’s cock was visibly straining against his pants. He was so excited Arthur had no idea how he hadn’t noticed it earlier. There was an obvious stain on the front already, precum drooling out of John’s cockhead from next to nothing. The only stimulation he had gotten had been his pants growing tighter, and rubbing his face into Arthur’s.

John’s whines were getting a little louder now, beginning to sound more desperate. Still not recovered, Arthur watched with mixed emotions as John began humping at the air as best he could, despite being tied up. He was whimpering loudly. Cutely.

Despite not having done anything, guilt rose up in the back of Arthur’s throat. He got up as fast as he could, pulling his now wet neck away from John who started crying twice as loud. 

Arthur made a dash for the woods, spending the rest of the night away from John. Close enough to see him, but not close enough to be seen. It broke his heart, watching John cycle through anger and sadness while on the tree for the rest of the night. He didn’t speak again, but his regular growls were back, only now there were loud whines with it.

Sitting in a bush, watching his friend out of his mind and giving into some strange carnally repressed desire, Arthur wished his cock would stop aching. 

  
  


As it might seem easy to predict now, Arthur found himself in quite the predicament when the full moon rolled around. John’s moods got worse and worse as the sun would set, but he didn’t go back to begging like he did that last night…

When the moon was finally full in the sky, Arthur should have known what it was leading up to. He had read books, heard legends and stories about what a werewolf was, but it was just silly crazytalk. Everyone loved a good ghost story to scare the ladies with, but never gave them much thought past that. The full moon looked down on their little secret hole in the forest, shining her rays through the trees onto the two men below. One more innocent than he’d ever like to admit, especially with knowledge on those who walk at night. 

John and Arthur sat at their respective trees. John, tied like usual, and Arthur working on whittling a small duck by the dim light he had to work with. There was a silence between the two of them that contrasted the last few nights. Normally, John didn’t have a lack of things to complain about. In a way, Arthur was almost grateful. It might not have been the most positive of exchanges, but Arthur enjoyed hearing from his old friend in ways he hadn’t since before that year he disappeared. It wasn’t worth getting into that now, better to stay focused.

The past few nights John had gotten particularly… twitchy? There lacked a better way to put it. He went from kicking at the leaves, to pulling and gnawing at his ropes, to just generally flailing about. More so than the usual fighting against his bonds, this seemed to be a lot less… purposeful. John was getting more and more mindless when the moon hit the center of the sky. 

There was also the issue that just seemed to keep popping up. When John was out of his mind every night, or at the very least not in his body, Arthur couldn’t stop himself from aching. From feeling every hair stand on edge, his entire body going into high alert. Over what, he wasn’t sure. He was sure of one thing though, that he didn’t think he was supposed to be so… Aroused, by all of it.

John’s whines hadn’t been back, but the hunger Arthur had trouble ignoring was. He never acted on it, but something about John like that, even just the memory, got Arthur’s cock about to dribble out pre just from the thought. It made him feel disgusted and ashamed, and that wasn’t even getting into his own problems over wanting to fuck another man. Arthur knew John wasn’t in his right mind when he got wild those nights. There was just something so animalistic about that one night, when he laid there begging him for something Arthur couldn’t even put into words. 

Tonight, as John began his recent writhing, Arthur tried to focus solely on the wood work in his hands. Trying to tenderly carve the soft wood in his hands into a sloping beak, rather than listening to John kicking at the dirt. He didn’t sound like he was biting yet, that was good. Hopefully John’d wear himself out soon enough.

Arthur’s hopes were dashed when John began whining loudly. Sending all the blood rushing out of Arthur’s skull and into his cockhead. 

“John…” Arthur said with a sigh, glancing up for a moment from his half started duck bill. 

John was sitting right where Arthur left him, down on the ground with his torso bound to the tree behind him. His legs that were previously spread casually, in an attempt to make the awkward position more comfortable, were trying to push up John’s body now, hoping if he moved up the tree that would be enough for him to get free. John’s eyes were blown again, like they were every night. Dark and filled with hunger, and locked on Arthur once more.

John whined gently, almost a whisper really, while keeping his eyes locked with Arthurs. His hands attempted to paw at the ropes, but they were tied behind his back and only helped to better show his weakened struggling.

“Arthur,” John choked out weakly while Arthur tried to ignore the throbbing that caused.

“Come on, you know I’m not going to do anything… When have I tried to hurt you?” John asked, the most coherent sounding thing he had said during these long nights.

“I’m not going to untie you to test that little theory.” Arthur said with a snort. He pretended to look back down at his duck, but kept his peripheral vision focused on John.

The look John gave Arthur was devastated. He cast his eyes upwards, whining louder. Using the new grip under his legs from having them flat on the ground, pushing up into the ropes. John was almost… grinding his hips in the way his body seemed to be seeking satisfaction. He sounded absolutely pathetic, like a dog begging for a treat.

Arthur swallowed in spite of himself. His next line of thinking had gone right to how his dogs had never been allowed to whine like that, they had always been trained better. Training John… Arthur had to keep away from that kind of thinking. 

“Stop crying.” Arthur said, snapping against his better judgement. He had always been nothing but a fool.

John just cried all the louder. As if he knew how much it was getting under Arthur’s skin, how much it was making his face and chest feel hot, how much every single whine got the blood pumping to the wrong damn organ of his. 

A damn fool.

“Could you just,” John said, panting. “Could you come over here, Arthur? Sit with me?”

Arthur didn’t bother to reply, trying to get another bit of wood off of his duck again. He knew his knife wasn’t moving, but maybe John was too out of his mind to notice. Cock straining in his pants like that, panting like a damn dog.... It just wasn’t decent.

“If I did that would you behave, Marston?” Arthur asked dryly. 

It wasn’t like Arthur could just tell John about the last time they’d done that he had gone to sleep, ignoring the pain of his cock. Rebelling and burning him for not doing a damn thing when obviously John was so willing. 

“I’d be a good boy.” John said, in what was supposed to be his regular dry sense of humor. Instead of laughing, Arthur let out a groan against his will. He hoped it came out aggravated, rather than aroused. 

“Fine, fine. Don’t ever say I didn’t do anything for you.” Arthur mumbled, and moved yet again to sit by John. It was against his better judgement, but he hoped John would fall right asleep like the last time.

John’s smile hit his eyes, following Arthur as he moved to him. The smug satisfaction of getting the larger man to come to him, like the cat getting the cream in this moment. There was a hunger in them that Arthur wished he could put to words. A thirst, looking like he was about to eat Arthur whole. 

Unable to help himself, Arthur looked downwards. John’s cock was pressing up against his pants, just as swollen as it had seemed from a distance. If anything, of course, it seemed even fatter and more pressing with Arthur being so close. Something about it almost seemed off in a way, but it was kind of hard to tell just looking down on John’s dick. Especially when Arthur didn’t have a particularly large amount of experience seeing it in his life.

Cutting off his train of thought, Arthur had just fractions of a second to process it before John’s hands were reaching up into his hair and then tugging him sharply downwards. Those strong, muscular, hard working hands were forcing Arthur down so quickly the best he could do to catch himself was to land on his knees, digging them into the rough forest floor. Arthur’s face was eye level for just a moment with John’s dick, before his face was dug into it. A laugh bubbled up in John’s throat for a moment, just to be caught off with a whine. Like he wanted to make fun of Arthur for being able to trick him into getting his face onto his dick. Like he wanted to pick on him for not being able to get free and over power him quickly. Just to remember John was acting on what his dick wanted and not anything else. 

Arthur opened his mouth to object, and ended up just tasting sweat and precum that had leaked through John’s pants. He knew how to respond to get out of this, how to wrassle John back up and hogtie him in a way he wouldn’t get free again. But yet… Something stopped him.

Something was ticking away in Arthur’s mind making him want to just continue to lay there. It was probably the way his dick twitched inhaling John’s musk. Or maybe it had been all the sexual tension raging in him, leading to this. Wanting to make John choke on his dick, give him something to lick at and whine about. Make tears stream out of those dark eyes of his, leaving light stains down his sun kissed face while fucking his throat raw. But those were nice thoughts, ones maybe Arthur could dream of a time when he was alone at night and not being forced to rub his mouth all over his best friend’s tightly held cock.

As Arthur’s head whirled in thought, he had John’s hand at the back of his neck, tangling fingertips in with his blonde hair while just rubbing his cock on Arthur’s mouth. It wasn’t even like this could be doing something for him to be honest… But John seemed to be having the time of his life, whining still while just humping at him. He wasn’t overly aggressive now that Arthur was down there, seemingly complacent just to get some kind of relief. 

“Arthur…” John groaned gently, following it with a soft whine. If Arthur had wanted to reply, he couldn’t. There was a fondness in John’s voice though, that made Arthur’s heart speed up. If only for a moment, before returning to the situation at hand. 

Just as the smell started to hit Arthur’s nose, a dangerously appealing musk, Arthur was able to make himself come to his senses. He put one hand square on the ground to the right of him, pushing his body up against John’s. The other hand Arthur planted firmly on John’s chest and pressed himself backwards. It was easier than he thought it would be, John’s strong hands quickly trying to claw him back versus using force to keep Arthur down. It was desperation over intelligence, showing even further how gone John was.

“John,” Arthur shouted out. “What the  _ hell  _ is your god damn problem?!”

The look John gave Arthur then wasn’t one of a man who understood a single thing that was going on. He didn’t even seem to have processed that Arthur was asking him something. His hands were still on Arthur. One in his hair, the other on the side of Arthur’s cheek. John’s eyes looked desperate, filling in at the corners with the beginnings of tears.

John’s hand ran through Arthur’s hair, while gripping onto his face like he was afraid he’d completely jump back. He continued to almost cry while doing it, running his fingers through his hair in a way that was almost loving. Almost. Arthur wasn’t quite sure what this not-John Marston creature was capable of feeling at this point. Perhaps that was a little harsh.. Arthur knew this was John, it was obviously his old friend and companion but… he seemed so far gone it was hard to think of him as that.

Sighing, Arthur pulled away, and John answered with a loud desperate whimper. Arthur knew he had to get John tied back up, tighter this time so he wouldn’t break free. Part of him, mostly the part between Arthur’s legs, wanted to just give in to John and let him take whatever frustrations and needs he had out on him.

While waiting in the mere seconds Arthur took to try to make up his mind, John gripped onto Arthur’s upper thigh while he was kneeling still within distance of him. Gently, at first, John moved his hips upwards. In his fuck focused mind he probably was instincitually searching for Arthur’s leg, but in reality all he was getting was air while scooting slightly across the forest floor.

Maybe it was then when it finally began to click in Arthur’s mind, the wheel in his brain turning a little bit faster. Marston, bitten by wolves, and on the night when the moon was the most full in the sky… Was acting the most foolish he had ever been in his life, and that was quite the feat. His brain seemed to be practically dripping out of his ears at this point, and Arthur couldn’t fight the dramatic sigh from coming out of his mouth. Regardless, John kept stupidly trying to scoot to him to rub his restricted dick against Arthur’s leg like a bitch in heat.

Arthur knew he should prop John back up against that tree and tie him up, but it broke his heart to see him like this. Broke it more than was good for both of them. How the past month had gone, Arthur hadn’t felt this close to John in a long time. He wanted to give in, to spoil him and make the night easier for him. Would that be taking advantage? Arthur swallowed roughly, he didn’t think himself a good man but he had no desire to be that kind of nasty to John. Resigning himself, Arthur moved backwards from John a bit and looked back into those blasted black eyes. 

John still looked like John. He was still the same oily motherfucker Arthur knew and loved, he just seemed so far beyond reaching. John’s eyes met Arthur’s then, black looking right through blue.

“Arthur,” John began with a hoarse sounding croak, as hoarse as usual. “Help me, would you?” This was some of the most coherent words John had ever said when he was like this, it was enough to make Arthur swallow again.

“I need help, Arthur… It… It hurts.” John said, whine creeping back into his voice. “I don't want to beg, but god damn it, Arthur,  _ it hurts _ .” John’s supposedly heartfelt words clawed at the corners of his heart, and he almost felt pity for a moment. But then, John kept humping at his thigh as per the (now) usual course. Arthur really wished when John did that it didn’t send blood rushing down into his dick.

“Fine.” Arthur spat back, heat flooding up into his cheeks. “I’ll help your dumbass. But John, when you come after me tomorrow trying to kill me over this whole thing,” Arthur swallowed, almost shamefully. “I hope you know how much you begged for my damn help.”

John looked at Arthur then with a familiar expression. His eyes were pulled gently at the corners, but his mouth was twisted into a fairly wicked grin. Like the kind of smile a boy would make right before hatching a genius plan to get them all in trouble. John had never been good at making those sorts of plans, but he was still very talented at getting his nose as deeply into shit as possible.

“Now, stay put.” Arthur said, swallowing loudly. He moved and started undoing John’s pants while kneeling, ignoring the warm heat on his thigh. And of course, how tight his own pants were getting.

John’s erection was absolutely massive, and for a moment looking at his bulge straining against his pants Arthur could only be amazed at its size. Abigail might be surprisingly blessed with her encounters with John Marston after all… 

Just feeling the slightest bit of pressure near his cockhead, John began whining again. But was being surprisingly well behaved. He was holding himself up with his arms while stretched out like before to keep his cock pushed towards Arthur. John’s eyes followed Arthur’s every movement, mouth opened slightly while staring mesmerized. Getting relief still seemed important, but there was a fascination with looking down at Arthur that Arthur couldn’t help but get excited over. 

Arthur tugged the zipper down finally, done marveling at John’s bulge. He tugged John’s ranch pants down showing off an even more impressive view. John’s dick was fighting to break out of the red undergarment John was wearing. The buttons leading up the front of his body were being pulled open, showing flashes of skin between them. Arthur made quick work of working the bottom ones open so he could pull out John’s cock, finding himself surprisingly enraptured with the musky scent coming off of it.

When he finally got John’s cock out, Arthur at long last started to click together even more what was happening. Combined with his earlier realization about the moons and the wolves, Arthur knew what appeared to be myth might be real… John truly may have actually been bitten by a werewolf up on that mountain.

John’s cock was swollen in more ways than one. Down at the base of his shaft where it met his balls was a swollen looking ball of some sort. Arthur knew enough about dogs to know it looked just like the knot they would have down at the bottom of their dicks. For some reason it was right at home on John’s body, whose dick seemed to be working just fine. Maybe even better than usual. Yeah, probably way better than usual if he was whining like this for Arthur’s attention. 

The knot at the base of John’s dick was as red and swollen as the rest of it, and John let out another loud whine when the chilled night air hit it. Whatever was happening to John, it was changing his body too. John’s cock stood completely erect, a small drop of cum even beading at the slit on his cock’s head. Arthur swallowed, taking it all in. His mouth felt a little too wet all of a sudden. Arthur wouldn’t allow this to change his mind about what he was going to do, if anything it just told him how much more John was hurting than he thought. Maybe his dick aching was enough to drive him mad.

Arthur dipped his head down, not going too fast as not to scare John. He let his lips push against the head of the other mans cock. Opening his mouth slightly, Arthur let the tip of his tongue drag over that little bit of cum. It tasted like salt and sweat in equal parts, and left a bitter taste in his mouth. It wasn’t bad though, in a way it was satisfying how it filled Arthur’s mouth with the taste. The kind of flavor that would probably still be there in an hour, smugly filling his mouth.

John, sitting above him, continued to whine. His breath came out quickly, already beginning to gasp for air in a way that seemed like he would be cumming any second. It showed Arthur how sensitive his ‘condition’ had made John’s cock. John’s hands moved quickly to clench at Arthur’s hair. He tilted his head back, unnoticingly, to whine loudly into the night air.

Arthur pushed the whole head into his mouth and began to get to work. Although he had never sucked a dick before, he sure as hell had his sucked. He had been down on a woman a few times, although that seemed like a distant past now.Arthur tried to think on motions he liked on himself. He did his best to take John to the back of his throat. He didn’t have much hope he could take it all the way, so John would have to deal without that. Just pushing John’s surprisingly shapely cock down Arthur’s throat was enough to continue his whines, which were bordering on howls now. He didn’t cum, at least not yet, but he was making all the noise like he was going to. Arthur did his best to run his tongue around the head of John’s cock, while bobbing his head up and down. He looked up, blue eyes wanting to watch John’s face while he was sucked off. 

Arthur was surprised to see John had cast his eyes down on him. Looking through dark eyelashes, John watched Arthur suck his cock with blown out eyes. His mouth was still hanging open, a small bit of drool at the corners of his mouth. He seemed blissed out of his mind. Arthur’s dick twitched painfully at that, practically begging for attention at this point.

Continuing like that for a minute, Arthur continued in his sucking of John’s dick. Enjoying the taste and feeling more than he thought. Even kneeling on the ground, although it hurt his old bones, seemed to feel sasifying in some strange way.

“Arthur-” John choked out, surprising him enough Arthur paused, tongue still on the side of John’s dick.

“You don't have to do this, you know.” John said, using a hand to wipe at his mouth. He put it right back in Arthur’s hair, but he couldn’t bring himself to care as he did have John’s cum in his mouth. That being said, Arthur wasn’t sure he was in the best place to be making conversation either. Surprising himself, Arthur continued sucking on John’s dick instead of replying.

“I-I mean, Arthur,” John continued to choke out, small whines slipping in. He sounded almost nervous. “It feels good, that is to say, I like it, but-” John loudly swallowed while Arthur kept working his mouth as best he could. He couldn’t help the smug look from spreading to his eyes, Arthur feeling a little too proud of watching the man in front of him unravel.

“You don’t have to do this, even if I do like it.” John finally managed to finish. He was gripping Arthur’s hair tightly now while the man, still on his knees, continued to suck John’s dick at a pace that was quickly picking up.

Not liking how Arthur wasn’t listening, John did his best to tilt the other man’s head back. Essentially pushing Arthur off of John’s hyper sensitive and swollen cock, and knot. Swallowing loudly, Arthur glared at John for a moment before the other man took him by surprise and tackled him to the dirt of the forest floor.

John’s tongue locked with Arthur’s, who seemed to not care about the taste of cum lingering in Arthur’s mouth. The two sat like that for a moment, a haze like happiness settling between them while their tongues moved in and out of each others mouths. There was something so intimate about kissing, or at least that seemed to be how Arthur always felt about it. He loved kissing, there was just something about it that made Arthur feel so much closer to whoever he was with. Hah, like there had really been that many… But that was for another time. In this time, John’s tongue was twirling with Arthur’s in a marvelous sort of way.

Without even noticing, John had gone back to humping at Arthur’s leg like a dog in heat. Arthur grunted, pulling away from John who went to desperately kissing at Arthur’s neck instead. He didn’t even care their kiss was broken, and was moving instead to leave all the marks he could on Arthur.

Letting himself sit in it for a moment, Arthur let out a groan of his own. He moved a hand down his pants to palm roughly at his own cock through his pants, just for a moment. John continued to suck and bite and mark in all the best ways up and down Arthur’s neck, moving quickly and roughly while the two laid against the forest floor. Arthur couldn’t bother to care about the sticks or stones in the ground, cracking under his back or pressing into his shirt that John was slowly peeling him out of as he worked his way down to Arthur’s collar.

Grabbing John by the hips, Arthur grinded up. His cock still tightly pressed in his own pants, Arthur grinded it up and against John’s fat swollen knot. John moaned loudly into Arthur’s neck, and then licked a huge stripe up Arthur’s neck in response. John was panting constantly now, small growls catching in his throat while biting at Arthur the best his fevered mind could keep up with doing.

The two laid like that for what might have been moments, or might have been a lifetime. Tangled together in a grinding panting mess that was almost soothing in how it allowed both Arthur and John to forget everything else except for each other. To give in to this night air and feel each other more intimately than they had ever let themselves before, but both had caught their breath imagining. A night John knew would be crisp in his mind's eye for nights to come, in a way these weeks hadn’t been for him in a long time. A night Arthur would finally be acting on a selfish moment of his body, hoping for weeks to come that he hadn’t made the worst mistake of his life. 

Craving more, John began ripping at Arthur’s shirt. In his mind he was pulling out buttons and working Arthur’s striped shirt open to reveal his chest underneath. But rather than that happening, John was just tearing up Arthur’s shirt with little issue. Although neither of them had noticed it, John’s nails had changed a bit too. Harder to notice in the night than his swollen knot, there were small other changes that had been occurring over the night.

Arthur moaned, low and deep in his chest, feeling John’s hands roughly raking over his chest. He didn’t quite cut, but the red marks came quick to Arthur’s skin to show where he had been clawed at. John kept moving then, mouth hungrily making its way further down Arthur. He lingered around his chest, sucking and nipping at his nipples and then underneath of them. Moving to bite and mark down his torso, and suck along Arthur’s pants waistline. 

Arthur grunted, holding John back for a moment. He reached towards him and put his hand on John’s throat to let him know to stop. John whined, low and deep from his throat and went back to Arthur’s neck for the time being. Arthur just didn’t want this frenzied idiot to shred something he shouldn’t. Arthur made quick work of his suspenders pulling them all the way off, and then pulling roughly at his zipper and buttons to work his pants down. 

The moment Arthur’s cock hit the night air, John let out another loud whine. Although Arthur couldn’t tell, John could smell the pre beading at the head of Arthur’s cock. Giving up on his neck, John quickly moved his head back down to take Arthur in his mouth. He didn’t hesitate to eagerly circle around his cockhead, swallowing the cum there greedily. John plunged the rest of Arthur’s length down his throat then, eagerly deep throating him. For someone who had never sucked cock before, John was too fuzzy around the edges to feel much discomfort at it.

Arthur groaned, grabbing at John’s hair wildly. Feeling John’s mouth on his cock that had been ignored for so long suddenly go into such a warm and wet mouth, swallowing happily around him, it was everything he could do not to cum in that moment. Arthur couldn’t tell why he didn’t do it, but it felt wrong to do quite yet. Especially with all of John’s swollen suffering to consider. Arthur licked his lips, remembering that. His hand was still holding John’s hair, pulling him back off his cock just slightly to stop him from taking the whole thing so fast again.

“John,” Arthur began with a croak. “Don’t move.”

John grunted a reply, and glared at Arthur through dark eyelashes for a fraction of a second, as if to say he couldn’t while he was being held like this.

Arthur couldn’t fight the little laugh from bubbling up his throat, and let go of John’s hair. He rotated himself slowly, not pulling his cock out of John’s mouth but moving across the dirt in a small circle. He was rotating his body to get his face back beneath John’s cock. Arthur wanted to feel more of the taste of John in his mouth, and getting them both off at the same time like this didn’t seem like a bad idea.

John’s eyes gleamed with understanding, and he moved his weight to his knees while Arthur kept his back flush to the ground. It took a moment of struggling, of leg moving and body shifting, but Arthur got what he wanted, a faceful of John Marston’s throbbing knot for the second time that night.

Getting eagerly back to work, the two worked in almost sync. Arthur excitedly sucking and nipping lightly at the base of John’s knot, worshiping it with his tongue. Meanwhile, John took all of Arthur into his mouth in another quick movement. Arthur couldn’t help but wonder if this damn boy just didn’t have a gag reflex. Moving just as quickly, John bobbed his head up and down Arthur’s cock, working it in and out of his throat. 

Arthur choked for a minute just under the sensation, while John contentedly moaned into the taste of cock. The two continued like that for what couldn’t have been more than a few minutes, but felt so satisfyingly long. The kind of eternity the two got lost in, minds floating happily in the sensation. 

The end always felt so much more rushed than the beginning, and before Arthur knew it John was thrusting desperately at his mouth. Arthur took his length as best he could, choking a bit from the size he wasn’t used to taking. John was whining so loudly now, even around Arthur’s cock, from desperation to finally come. Doing his best, Arthur grabbed John’s hips and took him as deeply as he could, swallowing around John’s cock while his knot pressed harshly against Arthur’s lips. John cried out loudly for a moment, humping Arthur face roughly while he finally got to cum. His knot swelled up even further at Arthur’s lips while he slowly worked out all of his seed. John licked at Arthur’s cock through tear laced eyes and a hazy mind, wanting his partner to cum. 

From the overwhelming amount of cum in Arthur’s mouth he had no choice but to swallow, to the weight of John above him, to the loving ministrations John was doing to his cock, Arthur finally got satisfaction and came roughly into his mouth.

Arthur and John laid like that for a minute, tiredly swallowing while John’s knott came down. Neither of them knew quite what to say as they eventually got to sit back up and adjust themselves, getting back into their own clothes while waiting for rapid hearts to calm down. Arthur felt the color on his cheeks, thankful for the color of nightfall, while he tried to ignore John’s hungry eyes on him. The way they burned now, as if seeing every part of him. Arthur knew there was nothing worse than himself being known, as it always led to the same.

“You still feeling all weird?” Arthur asked quietly, and scratched at his beard in a way he hoped seemed casual.

John chuckled then and looked up past Arthur, much to his relief, to the sky above. The moon continued to shine brightly in the sky, looking over the night as if nothing had happened or ever would. Arthur couldn’t help but continue to admire the other man like that. Taking in his long unkempt hair, his new face of hastily done stitches that seemed to suit him, and dark eyes that could keep looking and seeing everything for what felt like an eternity. 

“Yeah Arthur, I’m fine.” John said. “That helped a lot I uh, I was getting really… Backed up?” John ended with a question, unsure of how to phrase it.

Arthur nodded, looking back in the distance towards camp.

“Do you need to be out in the woods again tonight? Or do you think you can behave?” Arthur worked on standing up, and was surprised his legs were still a little shaky. His jaw also ached, but he would keep that to himself. 

John stood up after watching Arthur do it, then seemingly realizing he was just emulating him, he worked on cracking his back nonchalantly. 

“Uh, yeah. I feel a lot less worked up.” John said, looking at the ground. He could still taste Arthur in his mouth, could still remember how it felt to feel their mouths moving together. It made his heart speed right back up in his chest, choking him up for a minute.

Arthur nodded back then, and fixed his hat back up on his head. He ran his tongue over his lips nervously, before nodding a second time.

“Alright, I’ll walk you back.”


End file.
